


It's Never What You Think

by K_Hanna_Korossy



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5855530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Hanna_Korossy/pseuds/K_Hanna_Korossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're used to the Asgard unexpectedly "borrowing" Jack to talk...but what if he doesn't come back?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Never What You Think

With much help from Cathy Lussier and Anna Man

First published in _Redemption 4_ (2003)

 

Daniel Jackson sat at the polished conference table of the SGC and drummed his fingers impatiently on its surface. He didn’t enjoy sitting idle, and enjoyed it even less when _he’d_ made an effort to be on time, unlike _some_ colonel who would remain nameless but had graying hair and a permanent smirk and called Daniel “Danny” a little too often for his taste. Why was it always Daniel’s briefings he was late to? A person could read something into a tendency like that.

Clattering footsteps sounded on the stairs and in breezed the afore-unmentioned colonel, looking unruffled and too cheerful. Ignoring Daniel’s glare, he dropped into his seat and glanced around the table. “Sorry I’m late—what did I miss?”

At least Hammond was also giving him the evil eye, Daniel was slightly mollified to see. “Colonel, this briefing can’t start without you, you know that. We’ve been waiting for you almost ten minutes.”

Jack looked suitably chastened. It was too bad only the general could elicit that reaction from him. “I’m sorry, sir. Traffic. Won’t happen again, sir.”

It was still a little too chipper, but Hammond let it pass. Flagship team, long history together, and Jack being a friend of his, Daniel supposed. With a sigh, he straightened in his seat. “If I can begin, General?” Another glare at Jack was returned with a pleasant smile. Right. Figured they’d be out of synch again—when Daniel was in a good mood, delighted about something, it was always Jack who was sour and reined him in. Why should they be any more alike in this than they were in everything else?

He stood, collecting his file and getting a genuine smile of encouragement from Sam. At least someone was interested in what he had to say. Feeling a little heartened, Daniel flipped on the projector and began his briefing.

“As you know, the planet we’re going to next is P39-545. MALP survey shows it to be a rainforest-type planet, lush vegetation, most of which is unfamiliar to us, some signs of small-animal life, ambient temperature of 32 degrees Celsius. No indications of present or past human inhabitation. There are—”

“’Scuse me.”

Daniel lifted his head from his notes and put on a bland, patient smile. “Yes, Jack?”

“If there aren’t any signs of intelligent life, why are we the ones going, why not the scientific team?”

Sam smoothly slid in to take that one, perhaps aware of how annoyed Daniel was. “Sir, just because the MALP doesn’t pick up signs of human inhabitants near the gate doesn’t mean there aren’t any farther away. We have to assume the gate was put on that planet for a reason.”

“Yeah, well, anybody but me remember that nice little jungle planet we were on last year, looked uninhabited and harmless, landed us in Hadante jail? Maybe there’s a reason these planets aren’t inhabited, Carter.”

Daniel couldn’t be silent any longer. “If we don’t take a look, we’ll never know, Jack. We might be passing up a wealth of information in ruins the MALP didn’t pick up, or find a people living just outside of the range of the MALP. For all we know, they were just wise enough to move away from the gate so any Goa’uld who came wouldn’t find them too easily.”

“But not smart enough to bury the gate? General, I’m not suggesting we ignore the planet—send the science team to play with the plants, see if there’s a cure for cancer or something there. I’m just sayin’ SG-1 doesn’t need to go on a nature hike.”

Daniel could almost feel his blood pressure rise. Bad enough Jack blew off his studies on-planet; now he wasn’t even letting them get that far. If it had been up to O’Neill, they’d probably only go to the planets that had obviously superior technology they could study or trade for.

Hammond had been watching them until then, letting his people argue out the issue, but he spoke up now calmly, placatingly. “Colonel O’Neill, you have a good point—SG-1 isn’t usually deployed on purely research missions. However, if you’d allow Dr. Jackson to continue, I think you’ll see why we’re giving P39-545 so much attention. It may not have potential allies on it, but it has something else we need.”

Daniel frowned. He’d been working his way up to that, but Jack had jumped the gun, again. “Naquadah,” was all he said, tight-lipped.

“Naquadah,” Jack repeated flatly. “Don’t we usually find _miners_ wherever we find Naquadah? Like on Shyla’s planet? Sorry, Daniel,” he interjected, and looked like he meant it. “Not to mention the Goa’uld are usually pretty interested in planets like that, too.”

The concern, even momentary, lanced a lot of Daniel’s anger, but he shook his head resignedly at the older man. It was an old argument but it never failed to stir him up. “You’ll do anything to get out of a mission that doesn’t have something you can shoot at or blow up, won’t you?”

Jack’s eyebrows climbed and he actually looked offended. “I’m just tryin’ to—”

The flash of light from where Jack sat made Daniel blink. And in that fraction of a second, both the light and Jack O’Neill were gone.

Momentary silence reigned in the briefing room as everyone exchanged shocked looks, Teal’c half-rising from his seat.

“Major Carter—” the general finally began.

“I don’t know, sir—I guess the Asgard wanted to talk to Colonel O’Neill.” She looked as taken aback as Daniel felt, but she was already putting pieces together.

The briefing abandoned, Daniel sank back into his seat. “They don’t usually do that just to say hi.”

“No. I guess we should be prepared for a possible new threat, sir,” Sam said soberly to Hammond.

“Agreed. I’ll call off-duty personnel in and put us on alert. Major, is there any way to check for an Asgard ship in the area?”

“I took some scans the last time, sir—I think I know what to look for now.”

“Do it. Teal’c, you and Dr. Jackson are not standing down—I’d like you to help Major Carter any way you can. SG-1 is otherwise on stand-by until we have word from Colonel O’Neill. Any other comments or ideas?”

No one spoke.

Hammond nodded sharply. “Let’s get started, people.”

Head still reeling from the sudden change of events, Daniel hurried out after Sam, Teal’c just behind him. Of course he and Teal’c would do everything they could to help, but what was the point? The Asgard had their own sense of timing and would return Jack when they were good and ready. In fact, if he didn’t know better, Daniel would have sworn Jack had put the aliens up to this. He’d always taken any excuse to get out of a briefing.

It just wasn’t fair. 

 

“—play it … safe …” Jack’s words trailed off as the sentence he started in the SGC briefing room ended in the metallic cell he stood in now. He stumbled, getting his bearings, suddenly on his feet instead of sitting and, it felt, somewhere with a slightly higher gravity than Earth’s. So, not in Kansas anymore. Or even Colorado, for that matter.

Daniel would have already been announcing their presence and seeking first contact, but then the archaeologist and Jack rarely agreed on how to do anything. Jack instead stood silent and motionless for a moment, getting used to the different gravity and examining where he was.

Not much to see, actually. Four smooth, seamless walls, made out of some sort of shiny metal. Ceiling and floor the same. The room was square, maybe twelve by twelve feet, which didn’t leave a lot of pacing room, and was universally unbroken except for a small crack that ran evenly between the ceiling and the walls, and a hole in one corner no bigger than his clenched fist. Not much to work with.

Nor did he have any gear with him. Jack quickly patted himself down—everything he’d had on him had been beamed with him, but it wasn’t much. He hadn’t been dressed for a mission yet, after all. Just some gum and his wallet, his pocket knife, which could come in handy, and a pen. Terrific.

Jack finally moved forward cautiously, pleased he could still walk smoothly, if with some protest from his knees, in the higher gravity. He still planted his feet with care, trying to be as silent as possible in military boots on a metal floor. But the floor seemed to absorb noise rather than conduct it as normal metal would have, and even he couldn’t hear himself creep over to one of the walls. Sweet. Yet another sign he was far from home, but at least he wouldn’t be drawing any attention to himself. Although presumably whoever had beamed him up, probably Thor, knew he was there.

The crack along the ceiling turned out to be a thin opening that allowed for ventilation. A slight breeze lifted his hair as Jack tried to press himself nearer to it. But the space was only a quarter inch or so wide, not even enough to stick his pinkie into. Not very promising as an exit.

The hole in one corner was examined next, but the pipe or whatever that led away from it bent only a few inches beneath the hole, so he couldn’t reach down it. No, the purpose of that opening was pretty clear. At least whoever his host was, wanted him to have the amenities.

Which just left the question of who. Thor had beamed him up the same way just a few months earlier, before the treaty negotiations with the Goa’uld, but he’d brought Jack directly to the bridge and filled him in immediately. Maybe this time he got busy and this was some sort of waiting room? Or maybe he’d made a mistake and beamed Jack to the wrong place? Even the Asgard were only … well, not human, but fallible. It was possible.

So he should probably do something before they forgot about him completely. And since he wasn’t MacGyver and couldn’t break out of there with just a pen and a pocket knife, he’d have to make his presence known and remind his hosts he was there.

“Hello! Is anyone there? This is Colonel Jack O’Neill from Earth.”

The metal seemed to soak up his words, too, but at least he’d introduced himself if anyone was listening.

Problem was, no one seemed to be. Jack stood silently, listening for something, anything, to indicate the Asgard were outside and watching him. But nothing, not even a whir of ventilation.

“Listen, I don’t know what this is about, but I’m here and I’m ready to listen. What’s going on?”

Not even an echo.

“Thor? Come on, buddy, this isn’t funny. Talk to me.”

Total silence was fairly unnerving, but Jack didn’t let himself be unnerved, simple as that. He’d been brought there for a reason, and someone would make that clear sooner or later. There wasn’t any point in taking him just to keep him locked up in a room. Was there?

Nah. He settled himself on the floor of the cell, finding the metal to be pleasantly warm, and drew his knees comfortably up to his chest. Then, with an impatient sigh, he tilted his head back against the wall behind him, and settled in to wait.

 

Sam Carter stared at the computer until the image blurred, only then looking away with a sound of frustration.

“Any progress, Sam?”

She hadn’t even noticed Daniel come in, standing in his usual slightly slouched manner just inside the doorway. Despite the casual stance, however, echoes of her own frustration lined his face.

“Nothing. I’ve scanned the space all around the Earth to a distance of 1 A.U. and I’m not getting anything other than the usual space debris.”

“One A.U., that’s how far the sun is, right?”

She nodded. “On average, yes.”

“So … can’t the Asgard be farther away than that?” Daniel took a few steps closer and leaned against the top of her computer.

“We have no way of knowing how close they have to be to transport someone to their ship, so it’s possible.” Sam shook her head. “Or they could be behind a planet or our moon, where we can’t see them—there are a lot of possibilities, but …”

Daniel’s eyebrows rose in the way she found endearing but that seemed to annoy the colonel. “But?”

“But, the last time they were here, they were in an orbit around Earth. Why would they be that much farther away from us this time unless they didn’t want us to see them?”

Daniel straightened. “Isn’t that kind of a big assumption? I mean, for all we know, they just didn’t need to come closer and so they didn’t bother. It probably didn’t even occur to them we’d want to know where they are. Or maybe they just wanted to borrow Jack for a little while and they’re already gone.”

Sam nodded again. “I know—we’re making assumptions without enough facts. I’m sure the colonel’s fine. I’d just feel better if I knew where he was.”

“Maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way. Maybe we should be grateful for the break the Asgard gave us. Let them deal with Jack for a while,” Daniel smiled. But his eyes held a hint of worry, the same worry that circled the edges of her thoughts, not yet approaching but not going away, either.

“Maybe,” she conceded, allowing herself a small smile in return, briefly. “He’s probably thinking the same thing about us. But …” That _but_ never went away, either.

“But I’d feel better if we knew, too. How about widening the scan, looking farther?” Daniel continued.

“I was thinking of that,” Sam nodded, “it’ll just take a lot longer. The bigger the radius of our search, the more space we have, exponentially, to cover.”

“Well, I’m not doing anything else right now.” He settled in the empty chair next to her, the computer screen reflecting off his glasses as he gave her work his complete attention.

She hadn’t seen Daniel in a few hours and had actually thought he’d gone home for the night—they were sure the colonel was okay, right?—but somehow she hadn’t considered that an option for herself, so why should he? He was as concerned and curious about the colonel’s whereabouts as she was.

Forcing her own thoughts away from her missing C.O.—and friend—and back to the monitor, she launched into an explanation of what they had to do next.

 

Twelve hours. Jack watched the numbers count down to the mark he’d decided on, then climbed stiffly to his feet. Twelve hours since he’d been brought to his little home-away-from-home, and still no sign of Thor or another Asgard or anyone else. Nor food, for that matter, and his stomach was starting to complain in earnest. Contrary to popular belief, Jack O’Neill could be a patient man when he had to be, and he kinda liked Thor and was ready to give him an unusual amount of benefit of the doubt, but this was beyond ridiculous.

“Hello?” he called again, and banged a fist against the wall for good measure. “Anybody out there? Anything? I’m gettin’ kinda hungry here.”

No response of any kind, unsurprisingly.

“Listen, you don’t let me out of here or tell me what’s going on, and I’m gonna take this nice little room apart, got it?”

Sure, that’d have them quaking in their boots. If they even had legs. Jack blew out a sigh, then resignedly leaned forward to examine the ventilation crack, fumbling in his pocket for his knife. The largest blade on it was about four inches, not too long, but it was the best he had. Jack opened it and poked it into the crack. The blade slid in without resistance as far as it could go.

“Well, that was helpful,” Jack muttered. What was holding the ceiling up? Trying to peer through the crack was an anatomical challenge at best, and revealed nothing but more shiny metal beyond. There were certainly no struts in sight.

He wasn’t giving up yet. Keeping the knife inserted as far as it could go, Jack circled the room, trying to find some point where the knife bumped against something.

Nope.

Swallowing his frustration, Jack snapped the knife shut and took out the pen instead. It was a squeeze, but it fit through the crack, too, and if he held it by the tip, extended a few inches farther than the blade had. Jack repeated the circuit of the room, with the same results. “Swell,” he groused. He could stick his shoelace through it as a last result, but what would that really help?

Okay, so the ventilation opening wasn’t going to get him anywhere. How about the weird metal? Jack took out his knife again, opening it to the strongest blade he had, and took a tentative scrape at the wall. Not even a mark. He pressed harder this time, the screech of metal against metal muted by the walls. The blade bent under the pressure but the wall’s shine wasn’t even dulled, let alone scratched. Jack set his jaw and switched to the corkscrew implement, trying to leave some impression at all, even a pinhole.

It was like trying to cut diamond. The corkscrew slid and flattened at the tip, but it didn’t score the metal. The floor yielded the same result.

So, no digging his way out. And there wasn’t exactly a door he could work on. Jack crossed the cubicle to his last hope, the hole he’d already needed to use once but that was as dry and clean now as when he’d first arrived. Jack eyed it suspiciously, then tried to reach inside even knowing it was fruitless. It was, the bend in the pipe thwarting his reaching anything. Similar probing with the pen and knife didn’t get him any farther, and the metal of the pipe was unsurprisingly as tough as the metal of his cell walls.

For it obviously was a cell now, not just a waiting room. Maybe the Asgard were responsible for bringing him there, although Jack no longer considered that a foregone conclusion, but if they were, they had to be mad at him or something because this wasn’t the way you treated a guest.

“What did I do now?” he mumbled under his breath, then looked up at the featureless ceiling and yelled, “You’re messin’ with the wrong planet, you know. We’re the ones that brought Apophis and Hathor down, and we can do the same with you guys!”

It was as pointless as the empty threats hostages made to their captors in bad TV cop shows. Jack surged to his feet and in a fit of pique, kicked the nearest wall.

Well, that was stupid. Not to mention painful. His boot had taken the brunt of it but his toes still felt smashed and Jack hopped in place, trying to massage them through the leather. “Okay, now I’m mad!” he hollered. “You don’t let me out of here now and all bets are off. And believe me, you don’t want to get on our planet’s bad side!”

His toes still throbbed, and Jack finally dropped back down to the floor to unlace his boot and pull it off. Nothing broken, he rubbed at the offended digits, but they weren’t any happier than the rest of him at this cosmic prank someone was pulling. He took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m sorry. I just get a little cranky when I get beamed away and no one’ll even tell me why. Just let me out, or come in here and we’ll talk, okay?” Jack made himself smile, trying to look inoffensive even though there was no way he could figure he was being observed. “Please?”

Honey wasn’t attracting any more flies than the vinegar had.

Okay, bottom line. He was there, alone. Presumably the rest of SG-1 was still back at the base, although he had no way of proving that. Until he had some other options, though, he’d assume that for now, because the thought of what could be happening to Sam and Daniel and Teal’c worried him too much otherwise. They were all right, probably trying to figure out where he was, too. But he couldn’t count on a rescue party, especially if he was off-world on some planet they hadn’t seen yet. No one they’d met so far but the Nox or the Asgard, or maybe the Tollan, could have taken him like that, and none of the three seemed particularly inclined to do so, especially just to dump him in an empty, locked room. So if it was some new folks, God only knows when or how the SGC would find him. Escape was up to him.

Except there were no options he could think of for escape, at least not with the status quo. The room was solid, no exits or visible captors to take advantage of. He would have to wait for something to change before he could act, but then, well, then they’d see who they were messing with.

And if there was no change … well, there wasn’t any point being pessimistic about that. No one had hurt him or even searched him so far, no harm had been done to him except to take him against his will and plop him into solitary confinement. That in itself wasn’t necessarily a hostile act, which led him to believe they had some purpose for him and wouldn’t just let him sit there and rot indefinitely. He just had to sit and wait.

Piece of cake.

Boy, he was hungry.

 

“Okay, people, what do we have?”

The evening briefing General Hammond had called was unusual, but then, so were the circumstances. Teal’c himself had assumed with his teammates that O’Neill had been borrowed by the Asgard for some purpose that would be explained later. However, the Tauri had been missing since the previous morning and Teal’c was growing as uneasy as the others at the continued lack of information of O’Neill’s whereabouts. Teal’c did not fully trust the Asgard, but they were allies and surely they would not hold O’Neill for so long without explanation or even contact? Which only left open possibilities Teal’c did not relish.

“Well, sir, as you know, I expanded the deep space probe to the limits of our solar system. Even with the cooperation of NASA and using all our resources, human and alien, a complete search of that area will take a week at least. However, I can say with some confidence there is no ship within the vicinity the Asgard have usually been in on previous visits.”

Hammond narrowed his eyes at Major Carter. “Are you saying the Asgards aren’t the one who took Colonel O’Neill?”

“No, sir. All I’m saying is that if they took the colonel, they’re not doing it the way they have in the past, beaming him to their ship while they’re in geosynchronous orbit and then holographically communicating their intentions.”

“That doesn’t tell us very much, Major. I need to know whether Colonel O’Neill is in trouble or not,” Hammond said with a sternness Teal’c knew was not directed at the members of SG-1. Any good leader experienced frustration at lack of information or a threat to his team, and an excellent leader channeled it into determination and decisive action.

Daniel Jackson spoke up. “Well, I think it’s a pretty safe bet to say he’s in some kind of trouble. I mean, if the Asgard did take him and were in such a hurry to get somewhere, they didn’t even have time to explain, I think it’s safe to assume something seriously _bad_ is going on and Jack’s going to somehow be involved. And if it’s not the Asgard, well, I’m guessing they didn’t just borrow Jack to take him on vacation somewhere.”

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Daniel, sir. The Asgard have been very good about keeping us in the loop in the past. It’s not like them—under normal conditions—to take someone without a word. It’s possible they’re having some kind of emergency like Daniel said, but it’s also possible we’re talking about a whole other race altogether with similar beaming technology that’s taken the colonel for unknown purposes.”

“You don’t think it’s anyone we’ve met before?”

She considered carefully before she answered. “The Nox would have this kind of ability also, but they’ve demonstrated absolutely no interest in pursuing a relationship with us or involving us in their affairs. And the Tollan might also be capable of beaming technology—we’re not really certain what they’re able to do—but again, they haven’t exactly been asking for our advice in the past. Those two are the only ones we’ve encountered who could do something like this, that we know of. Even the Goa’uld don’t have beaming technology without the rings.”

General Hammond unexpectedly glanced at him. “Teal’c, have you come across any races that could be responsible for Colonel O’Neill’s disappearance?”

Apparently he was seeking all thoughts and opinions before making his decision, another trait of a good commander. Teal’c sometimes had insights or knowledge the Tauri did not, but unfortunately, now was not such a time. “I regret to say I have not. Any race with such technology would be superior to the Goa’uld and therefore would either be avoided by Apophis or would not make themselves known to the Goa’uld.”

Sometimes the age in General Hammond’s eyes and the visible weight of responsibility reminded Teal’c of Master Bra’tac. Both were good men who took the burden of command seriously. “All right. It seems to me it’s time to try to reach the Asgard and ask them what they know about this. We’ve waited long enough for them to explain themselves—I want some answers now. Major, I also want you to try to reach the Tollan and the Tok’ra. We’re not asking for help yet—we don’t even know if Colonel O’Neill’s in trouble—but I want to know if they have any ideas what’s going on here or if they’ve heard something about an Asgard emergency. We’re still gathering information here, but make sure they know we want an answer, quickly. For all we know, Jack might be having the time of his life somewhere with Thor, but he could also be in serious trouble. We need to know which it is.”

“Yes, sir.” Major Carter’s answer was echoed by Daniel Jackson, who did not usually resort to military conventions and behavior. Even Teal’c inclined his head. They were resolved: if O’Neill was in difficulty, he would need help and they would be there to provide it. And if not, at least they would find that out, too.

Teal’c had not been raised to worry about an individual other than himself, and he did not like the feeling, but the Tauri seemed to need a lot of worrying about.

“Dismissed,” General Hammond said sharply, and walked out with an unusually straight stance. In his own private way, he was worried, too.

Major Carter gathered her notes and then glanced at Teal’c and Daniel Jackson. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Right,” Daniel Jackson answered absently, also collecting his materials.

Teal’c said nothing, merely followed them out in silence. Perhaps he could do little to help find O’Neill, but he would look after the team until their leader’s return. In this he agreed with O’Neill, that scientists often forgot to look after themselves, and at least he could do that much for his missing friend.

 

Forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours without food and water, and Jack was starting to have some serious second thoughts about the place. Whoever his hosts where, they didn’t seem to care if their guests died of dehydration and rotted away in their little cell. Not a good situation.

He’d slept a little a few hours before, hoping his keeper would take advantage of his being unconscious to provide some nourishment, like in that Star Trek episode. But no such luck when he’d awoken, no signs at all there was an entrance to the cell. For all Jack knew, there wasn’t one, you just had to beam in and out. And since he’d neglected to pack his nifty portable transporter controls, he didn’t have many options left.

Well, maybe one.

Pushing himself again upright on stiff knees, Jack began a slow circuit of his cell. He’d started exercising before his little nap to make sure he stayed ready for any new arrivals, for all the good that had done. But raising a sweat wasn’t a good idea when you didn’t have any water, and now he was down to a walk every hour, a few laps around the room, just to keep himself limber. It would have to do.

Once around, and Jack cleared his throat, stopping near the middle of the cubicle.

“Listen, I … appreciate the hospitality, but I think I get the picture and I’m ready to talk now. You want something—maybe we can work a deal.”

Okay, so this was usually more Daniel’s bag, but as much as the archaeologist wouldn’t have believed it, Jack had studied diplomacy, too.

He scuffed the toe of his boot against the floor. “Not buyin’ it, huh? Don’t blame you—I don’t think I would, either.” He scratched his head, winced at the thought of what would logically come next, then squared his shoulders, glad for the moment Daniel wasn’t there to see him try this.

Jack cleared his throat and took a stab at it.

“Uh, _abla Espanol?_ ”

Sure, Spanish aliens. Largest minority in space. Giving himself a mental kick, Jack tried again.

“Goa’uld? Kree? Jaffa!” Which was exactly his sum knowledge of Goa’uld. Maybe he should have let Daniel teach him some, after all, but seemed they heard enough of that stuff already.

Daniel! Daniel and his funny ancient languages. Jack cocked his head—well, it was worth a try, right? “Amo, amas, amat. Veni, vedi, vici. In vino veritas. E pluribus unum … sic tempus fugit?”

There went all his Latin, and he wasn’t even sure all of it was correct. Great. He knew just enough of about a dozen languages to convince a native speaker he was a complete idiot.

Frowning, he concentrated on the last language he could think to try. If only the Asgard had left a little of it behind in his head … “Kozars!” Well, it was a start. Baffle ‘em with body parts. “Uh, falatis. Cruvis!” Try as he would, he couldn’t think of anymore. By the time he’d started getting more fluent, his memory had become mushy. Probably overloaded trying to store stuff in a language he didn’t even speak.

It would have been worth it if there were any response, but there wasn’t, just the resounding silence. A guy could go crazy in such silent solitude; Jack had seen it happen.

He was starting to get a really bad feeling about this.

More than a little worried now, he lashed out at the blank walls. “Fine! You don’t want to entertain me, I’m just gonna entertain myself. If you get tired of it, you can just come in here and stop me!”

Bravado. It was usually the last resort. But even as Jack started singing “Ninety-nine hundred bottles of beer on the wall,” he had to admit, he didn’t have anything else left.

 

“General?”

Sam stepped up into the briefing room, attention divided between her superior officer in front of her and the paper in her hand. Dimly, she was aware of Daniel clattering up behind her, sticking with her as he had been for the last two days, and Teal’c standing next to the general, looking as if they’d just been having a serious discussion. Some part of her wondered about what as she stopped in front of the general.

“I just finished the latest scan, sir.”

Hammond’s chin lifted. “And?”

“Still no trace of an Asgard ship, but I think I might have found an indication they were here.”

Sam didn’t imagine it; there was a flash of relief in General Hammond’s face as he nodded, more encouragingly than usual. “Go on, Major.”

It was hard to rein in her enthusiasm. She finally had an answer to give him, to give herself. “Well, sir, I figured that maybe instead of just scanning for a ship, we should try scanning for signs a ship had been here. When Thor was here before the treaty talks, his ship left a faint trail of unusual tachyon emissions. It must be a byproduct of their propulsion system. Anyway, I made a record of it then for future study. I decided to try looking for those same emissions this time, and there they were, or at least very similar ones, almost too faint to register, but definitely recent. I’d say within three days, sir.”

“Recent enough to account for Colonel O’Neill’s abduction.”

Whoa, abduction? When had they taken that step? Although, considering over fifty hours had gone by without any word or by-your-leave, it wasn’t unwarranted, either, even if it _was_ just the Asgard being rude. “Yes, sir. That doesn’t mean it was an Asgard ship, but it does mean we know how Colonel O’Neill got taken and that he’s no longer in the area.”

Hammond narrowed his gaze on her, reminding her of her original discomfort at finding she’d be working day-in and day-out with a general. “You’re sure this ship has left our solar system?”

“Not necessarily our solar system—we just don’t have the equipment to track the trail that far, sir. But it’s definitely left orbit and isn’t within visual or scanning range of our equipment.”

His worried scowl was back and her enthusiasm dimmed. Yeah, it was a big find, but ultimately it didn’t tell them much, did it? They still didn’t know who had taken the colonel or why or where they had him now.

“General, has there been any response to the messages we sent out?” Daniel asked from beside her.

“The Tok’ra have responded—they’re as clueless as we are.” Sam could imagine they hadn’t said that in so many words. “Nothing yet from the Tollan or the Asgard.”

“The Asgard is here.”

The words from her right followed so closely on the heels of a transportation flash that Sam was as surprised by the arrival as by hearing a new voice. But there the Asgard stood, not ten feet away, looking at them with the same inscrutable expression all his race had.

Daniel took a step toward it. “Thor?”

It wasn’t like you could tell, Sam sympathized, but the Asgard turned its calm liquid gaze on Daniel and shook his head slightly. “Thor was unable to come. I am Forseti. We have received your message.”

“Then you know Colonel O’Neill was taken, we presumed by your people,” Hammond said. Daniel had momentarily tuned them out, murmuring to himself something about “god of justice.” That sounded good at least, and Sam would have smiled and asked for details under different circumstances.

The Asgard gave another minute shake of his head. “We did not take O’Neill, although the method of transport you describe concerns us. This is Asgard technology.”

Sam really wasn’t liking where this was going. “Are you saying somebody stole your technology and used it to kidnap the colonel?” Or maybe a rogue Asgard. Did they even _have_ rogue Asgard?

Forseti canted its head to look at her. “No. That is not possible. But … there is another prospect.”

He didn’t seem to be forthcoming with the answer, and Hammond finally prompted, “Which is …?” with barely concealed impatience. Sam knew how he felt.

“A Ratatosk.”

Sam glanced at the general and Teal’c, seeing the same bafflement in their faces. And Daniel was silent, which meant he was probably just as lost. “Ra-ta-tosk?” she repeated uncertainly.

A recognizable nod this time. “We had believed them all to have been destroyed or lost over the millennia, but it is possible one has survived.”

Daniel’s turn. “And a Ratatosk is …?”

“A retriever ship. A safeguard built into the meeting place of the Four Races.”

“The place Jack got all that knowledge downloaded into his brain.”

Another nod. “We removed that knowledge when O’Neill came to us, but remnants remain. That is all that is needed to summon a Ratatosk.”

Sam was busy putting pieces together, and frowned at the picture she was coming up with. “So this … retriever ship goes around looking for people who have received the knowledge of the Ancients?”

“Those who received it in error. It is meant to protect the knowledge from those who should not have it.”

Okay, she was having very bad feelings about this. Sam opened her mouth to continue but Teal’c beat her to it. “What does the Ratatosk do with such individuals?”

“It makes certain no information remains.”

“How?” Hammond demanded, no longer trying to be patient.

“By completing a thorough removal of such information.”

Holy Hannah. That sounded … dangerous, and Sam could feel her eyes grow wide at the implication.

Forseti continued as pleasantly as if he hadn’t just shocked the four people in front of him. “There is no damage to the subject, nor is the subject even aware of such a removal. The procedure is quick and painless.”

She felt her shoulders sag in relief, but that still didn’t explain everything. “What happens to the subject after the information’s removed?”

Was she imagining Forseti looking slightly uncomfortable? “They are usually returned immediately to the place of their retrieval.”

“Well, I think someone forgot to put him back this time. Jack’s still gone, and it looks the ship is, too,” Daniel said indignantly.

But things were finally starting to make sense. “Wait a minute, Forseti,” Sam interrupted. “You said the Asgard had presumed the Ratatosks were all destroyed or lost. Is this some sort of automated ship?”

Forseti inclined his head. “They were programmed.”

“And so long ago that you hadn’t figured any of them were still around.”

“There has been no contact with a Ratatosk in many, many years.”

Sam shifted her balance. “So if this thing is still around, some parts of it are bound to be malfunctioning. Like maybe the return portion of the program?”

“Possibly,” the Asgard admitted.

Sam turned to General Hammond. “So instead of returning the colonel like it was supposed to, it may have forgotten all about him when it was done and just gone on to its next target.” Or without a target, simply gone on. Which meant it could be anywhere, Sam winced. Then there was the even less pleasant possibility its return programming had been corrupted to do any number of bad things to the “subject” when it was done with it. And even that assumed the cleaning process had been done correctly and hadn’t resulted in damaging the colonel’s brain, or worse. The news just kept getting better and better.

“If your ship has taken O’Neill, is it not possible for you to return him?” Teal’c asked.

Good question. She threw him an approving glance before looking to Forseti for the answer.

“I cannot. I do not know where O’Neill is, nor is this our concern.”   
“Not your concern?” Daniel’s voice cracked. “Of course it’s your concern! It was your ship, a ship that should have been disabled a long time ago, that took him! This wouldn’t have happened if not for your people.” Daniel’s obvious worry cranked Sam’s a little higher. He of the three of them was the least bound to the colonel in duty but often the most vehement in his defense of Colonel O’Neill, sometimes even when they were completely at odds. In fact, it had been Daniel who had refused to leave the colonel’s side when the knowledge of the Ancients had started to take him over. Without duty to stand in his way like it did for Sam, he could often be a truer friend. Sam often envied him for it.

“This would not have happened had O’Neill not gained the knowledge of the Ancients,” Forseti answered with what Sam could have sworn was hauteur.

That was just great. They’d either lucked on to one of the more arrogant members of the Asgard, or else they’d put Forseti on the defensive. Either way, it didn’t sound promising. Apparently not all Asgard shared Thor’s high opinion of humans. Sam wasn’t about to give up, though. “Colonel O’Neill didn’t ask to have the knowledge forced on him,” she protested.

“It was he who went to the meeting place and looked into the repository.”

Daniel must have realized at the same moment as she that this wasn’t working and switched gears. “Okay, look, we want to talk to Thor,” he demanded.

“Thor is unavailable.”

Sam uttered a silent, pithy curse. “Then you need to help us,” she insisted. “Colonel O’Neill is in trouble because of your defective machinery. You didn’t remove all that knowledge from his brain just to have him taken by your ship, did you?”

“I do not know where O’Neill is,” Forseti obstinately repeated.

“But you can find the ship,” Daniel said, suddenly growing quiet.

The Asgard hesitated. “We can find the ship.”

“So how hard would it be to find Jack on it and bring him back?”

There was a long pause, but Sam somehow got the impression the alien was thinking, perhaps even communicating with superiors, not refusing to answer. Was he trying to protect Asgard technology, or simply not wanting to bother with a “young” race?

Forseti finally cocked his head and looked her directly in the eye. “We will help. But only to help you find O’Neill. The rest is up to you.”

The four of them exchanged a glance. Yeah, okay, that was doable. If the Asgard wouldn’t help them retrieve the colonel, they could—

The flash of light enveloped them.

  

Hammond looked around the empty briefing room with exasperation and quietly uttered a word he didn’t often use. He hated when this happened.

And now he had four of them to worry about.

  

“Ninety-eight hundred, eighty-five bottles of beer on the wall …”

  

The flash of transportation faded, the brilliant light leaving his vision unimpaired as normal light would have. Daniel would have been excited by it and the whole beaming process if there hadn’t been more immediate concerns to deal with. Like where the heck they were. It certainly wasn’t the SGC anymore.

Sam nearly swayed before catching herself. “Whoa! Higher gravity.”

His reaction exactly. “Um, what just happened?”

“Forseti said he would help us find O’Neill.” Teal’c looked unperturbed, but then he usually looked unperturbed.

Sam managed to scowl, look intrigued, and give them a look of despair all at once. “I think Forseti beamed us to the ship.”

That would explain the high metal walls and dimly lit bare corridor the three of them stood in. Bleak was the word for it, especially as the fact they’d been dropped there unprepared sank in. “But … but we weren’t ready!” Daniel sputtered. “I thought we’d get some gear, some supplies and weapons and food—”

“I guess Forseti had other ideas. When he said he’d help us, he meant right away.” Sam sounded as exasperated as he, but good major that she was, had already started scouting the area around them. Which doubtless didn’t reveal much, considering all there was to see around them was unbroken gray metal.

“We must find O’Neill,” Teal’c announced, cutting to the chase as he usually did.

“Yeah, except we don’t even know where to look.” Daniel also glanced around, looking for the source of the faded illumination that glowed around them. Nothing, no vents, no lights, no shadows, nothing but metal walls. And a bend in the corridor a dozen feet or so behind and in front of them.

“This way,” Sam announced, pointing to the corner nearest her. There was nothing to recommend it over the other turn as far as Daniel could see, but she was probably making a decision because it had to be made. Taking over command since Jack wasn’t there.

“O–kay,” Daniel sighed, and followed her lead, Teal’c falling in behind him to cover their backs.

They were all in boots but their movement was nearly silent. “The metal dampens sound,” Sam marveled, looking around her as they went. She reached out to touch one of the walls, Daniel watching closely as she did, but it didn’t seem to hurt anything. “Feels normal. I’ve never seen anything like this before.” Even with the worry about Jack in the forefront, she still sounded fascinated. Once a scientist, always a scientist, Daniel hid a smile. It was one of the first things he’d discovered and loved about Sam Carter. If the walls had been covered in any form of writing, it would have been him they’d have been peeling away and he knew it. And Jack would have been annoyed with them both … Daniel sobered. He almost missed the older man’s impatient and deliberate density. Well, for better or for worse, they’d find Jack soon, if the Asgard were to be believed.

They reached the turn and took it, only to find the corridor branched into a “T” in front of them. Sam led the way to the junction, then glanced both ways down that corridor.

Daniel joined her. Unfortunately, there was little to see again except for more stretches of smooth metal hallway in both direction, bending into another turn on the right and continuing for some distance to the left into what was either a dead-end or a distant corner.

Sam didn’t discuss, just turned silently toward the left.

Daniel and Teal’c followed, although Daniel took a hurried few steps to catch up to her as she strode determinedly on. “Uh, not that I’m arguing, but why this way?”

Her shrug wasn’t encouraging. “I figured a longer corridor was more promising than more twists and turns. Maybe it ends in a door.”

“I have never seen such a craft. There does not appear to be any doorways or amenities for living beings.” Teal’c said.

“Well, if it’s automated, I guess they don’t really need much. They certainly wouldn’t need a kitchen or a bathroom or living quarters. The hallways might have been a concession for the Asgard who built the ship.” They’d probably gotten lucky with the life support system, too; Daniel rather doubted Forseti would worry about sending them into a vacuum.

“Which means there’s probably some sort of control room,” he added.

Sam gave him a glance that told him she was as blindly hopeful as he. “I’m counting on it. Forseti didn’t say anything about getting home after we found the colonel.”

Daniel gave the metal walls they were passing a reflective look. Was Jack behind one of them, trapped, possibly hurt? If the ship beamed its “subjects” in and out, maybe there wasn’t even a doorway to wherever he was being held. He chewed on that for a moment before speaking up again.

“Sam, maybe Forseti didn’t beam us to where Jack was on purpose, because Jack’s trapped somewhere. Without any equipment, we’d just be trapped, too.”

Sam was looking at him as she continued walking. “So you’re saying he knew we’d be able to find the colonel and get him out and then get ourselves back home? I hope you’re right, Daniel. Forseti’s not used to dealing with humans—it might not have occurred to him we wouldn’t be able to figure out this ship or get ourselves back home. He didn’t exactly jump to help us out.”

“He is an Asgard, ally of the Tauri. To send us here without hope of return would not be acceptable to the others of his race.”

“Teal’c’s right, Sam,” Daniel bobbed his head, “Forseti can’t just do whatever he wants. The Asgard may not all be crazy about us, but they’re still our allies, and sending us off to a dead-end isn’t going to do them any good, either.”

Sam nodded, immersed in her own thoughts.

They reached the end of the long corridor, which up close they could see turned to the left. Sam slowed and used more caution this time, peering around the corner first, then straightening and slipping around it.

As Daniel followed, he was heartened by the sight of a simple entryway just ahead and to their right, as the corridor continued to another turn about twenty feet down. He let Sam lead the way inside, ducking to fit the short opening. No doubt built to Asgard standards.

Bingo—control room. Or that was his best guess about the simple cubicle with what looked like a large drafting table in its center, made of the same metal but dotted with uneven patches of translucent color. The only other furnishing in the room was what looked to be a thin, tall chair-thing rising needle-like from the floor. Clearly made for a pilot shaped more like an Asgard than a human. Ahead of them there was no viewscreen, just more bland metal wall, but that didn’t detract from the sense that this was the control room they’d been looking for.

Sam seemed to have forgotten all about them, inching forward with the absorbed look of delight Daniel saw on her face whenever they came across unfamiliar technology. It was probably the same look he got when they encountered cultural artifacts. No wonder Jack got so annoyed with him sometimes.

Her fascination didn’t last for long, though. Apparently, she was reminded of why they were there the same moment Daniel again thought of Jack, because the look of delight turned to determination. Sam eased herself onto the edge of the pilot seat and studied the control board in front of her.

“Do you think you can figure it out?” Daniel asked quietly. He had every confidence in her abilities, but it wasn’t as though she’d ever studied alien technologies in school.

“Teal’c,” she turned without answering him. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

“I have not,” Teal’c answered, sounding unusually regretful.

“Okay.” Her voice fell, talking to herself more now than to them. “I guess we should just try something then.” And with hesitation, she reached forward and lightly pressed the center of one of the colored areas, this one a deep green.

As if someone had flicked a projector on, a field of stars replaced a square section of the wall in front of them, as clear as if they were looking through a window.

“Wow,” Daniel breathed.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. She pressed the green field again and the stars vanished back into the wall. Daniel watched as she tried pressing the edge of the green patch, and the stars reappeared, although even to Daniel’s untrained eye they looked different. Pushing the opposite edge produced yet another star field.

“Side and front view?” Daniel opined.

“I think so,” Sam nodded, not glancing up at him. She moved her hand now to the red patch next to the green one, and pressed its center.

Over the stars, a series of intersecting lines appeared, glowing a soft yellow.

“That’s … interesting,” Daniel murmured.

“I believe that is the layout of this ship,” Teal’c said.

A pause as they both considered that, then Sam said with new enthusiasm, “I think you’re right, Teal’c. See?” she pointed. “That’s the corridor we beamed into, and that’s the long one we just came down. We’re here, in the control room.”

Daniel leaned over her shoulder and experimentally touched the red pad near its left edge. On the projection, the leftmost corridor shimmered more brightly for a moment, then a stream of symbols appeared alongside it, glowing pink.

Daniel felt his jaw go slack.

“Can you read that?” Sam looked up at him.

“Uh, maybe with a lot of time and some of my references I could. I did some translation work after Jack read parts of the Ancients’ writing, but I’m still kinda new to Asgard.”

“Does any of it make sense?”

Daniel pored over it, looking for familiar groupings, already analyzing structure. “I think one of the words is ‘good,’ and that one there near the bottom looks a lot like ‘closed.’ ”

Sam’s brow wrinkled. “Well, that would make sense if it was giving us a status report of that part of the ship. Maybe we could figure out where the colonel is with this.”

Sure, between any of those crisscrossed lines. No problem.

Once again, it was Teal’c who came to the rescue. “If the ship was not designed to collect more than one subject at a time, would not a single small compartment be a likely location to keep such a subject?”

It made sense. Daniel stared at the diagram once more, his and Sam’s fingers coming up almost at the same time to point to the one spot where the lines marked off a box. “There.”

“That’s right next to the corridor we were beamed into,” Sam noted.

“Maybe Forseti was trying to give us a clue.” Daniel had an idea he was being gracious, but oh well. With the prospect of finding Jack much improved, he was in a generous mood.

“Okay, so how do we get him out of there,” Sam muttered. “It isn’t like this place has any doors.”

“Beaming? Or maybe a hidden entryway? Can you find out how he’s doing?” Daniel’s mind was racing. He’d made a deliberate effort not to think about how Jack was doing as the hours since his disappearance had ticked by, but the worry was never very far or quiet. Plain and simple, he was scared for his friend, and to be so tantalizingly close yet so far …

“Daniel, I—”

“Major Carter. I request permission to return to the cell to seek a way inside.”

They both looked at Teal’c. He was formidable even without weapons, but not even Teal’c could tear through metal with bare hands. “Uh, how—” Daniel began.

“I will attempt to find an entrance.”

This time they exchanged a glance. Well, why not? Daniel felt the pull back to the cubicle, himself, but he was needed more there in the control room, translating and figuring out the ship, and Sam was good at the technical. But Teal’c was the one who usually went the most direct route, and who was to say which would work?

Sam seemed to come to the same conclusion. “Go ahead, Teal’c, just be careful. We don’t know for sure there isn’t anything else alive on this ship or if the automation’s got any other malfunctions. It might even be booby-trapped.”

Teal’c nodded silently and stalked out of the room, his jaw unusually set.

Who knew, maybe he _could_ tear through metal with his bare hands. Daniel raised an eyebrow, knowing he wouldn’t want to be in between Teal’c and a friend in trouble.

They turned back to the screen in front of them.

Further experimentation revealed some rudimentary flight controls they were careful not to mess with although Sam noted it for future study if they needed it to get home, an aqua-colored field that seemed to control life support systems on the ship—also not one to be messed with—and another control for what they both decided was beaming, although it seemed geared only toward beaming ship-to-surface, not, to Daniel’s regret, intraship. So much for that option. Yet another field gave them engine schematics that Sam reluctantly passed by, and the final few were for various other ship functions they didn’t need.

But no doorway controls, or status reports about possible guests of the ship.

Daniel cursed under his breath, but he pressed a hand to Sam’s sagging shoulder. There had to be a way. Even if Forseti hadn’t thought that far, Daniel couldn’t believe there wasn’t some method of access to an area of the ship they were on. It just didn’t make sense.

“If we were Asgard, it would probably be obvious,” Sam answered when he raised the point. “But we have no idea how they even think, Daniel. It could be staring us in the face and we wouldn’t see it.”

Daniel chewed his lip. “Bring up the ship’s layout diagram again.”

She did so with a touch. The lines of corridor glowed again in front of them.

“What happens if you touch one of the edges of the cubicle instead of the cubicle itself?”

It took some trial and error earlier before they’d been able to zero in on the cubicle, hoping to find out if Jack was there and what shape he was in, but all that produced was another bunch of illegible status reports, more than for the corridors. All Daniel’s brain-wracking could come up with was the word “people,” but whether that was an Asgard being or a “retrieval subject,” he had no clue.

Sam tapped a few times before she found where the cubicle wall was on the unmarked green field. More lines of alien script came up, one of them glowing a more aggressive red than the pink of the rest. That was interesting—Teal’c doing something, maybe?  
As they stared at the useless information, Sam suddenly jolted upright. “Of course!” she exclaimed, and hastily tapped on another field. Diagrams that meant nothing to Daniel popped up on the screen.

“Sam …?”

“Weapons, Daniel! We didn’t bring any, but that doesn’t mean the ship doesn’t have any! If they don’t have any doors that open, we’ll make our own.”

Weapons were usually his last choice, not his first, but then it wasn’t like they had a lot of choices left to try. Still, Daniel frowned at the screen as Sam sifted through the diagram, touching various parts of it. “We don’t know what the ship’ll do if we try to get Jack out by force. There has to be a way to do it normally—the ship couldn’t have been designed—”

“Why not?” Sam spared a moment to glance up at him. “If it didn’t expect to keep its subjects very long and only beamed them in and then back to the planet, why make a door? So the subject could get out and roam around? That wouldn’t make any sense.”

The word “subject” was starting to rankle. “That’s Jack, not a ‘subject,’ ” Daniel said stiffly.

The set of Sam’s expression and the edge in her voice was the only sign she gave of not appreciating his correction. “I know that. I just meant—”

He sighed. Daniel of all people knew about distancing yourself from worry by retreating into jargon. “I’m sorry, I know what you meant, I—This just seems like a big chance to take.”

“Leaving him in there longer in an unknown condition is an even bigger chance, Daniel.” Her eyes could be piercing when they were making a point she really believed in, and they pinned him now. He was nodding before he realized it. She was right, they didn’t know how Jack was, and any delay could mean his life. Daniel wasn’t crazy about it, but indefinite research this time was not a luxury they could afford.

And Sam’s eyes were as worried as he felt.

“I’ve got it,” she suddenly crowed, and then surprised him by launching herself out of her seat. Sam went around to the other side of the control console and then crouched down and did something he couldn’t quite see. Her face split into a smile, the first since they’d arrived on the ship, and she held up a pipe-shaped object as she stood.

Daniel’s eyebrow rose. “That’s a weapon?”

“Not exactly—it’s a tool. I guess they kept some on hand in case something needed fixing.”

“A tool that does …?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a cutting tool.”

His other eyebrow joined the first. “ ‘Pretty sure’ ”?

She made a face. “It’s either that or some sort of Asgard wrench.”

Daniel swallowed a groan.

“I don’t like using an untested piece of equipment, either, but if we try it here, we could compromise the hull or do something a lot worse, Daniel. If you’ve got any other ideas, now’s the time.”

He didn’t and she knew it, darn her. Jack had rubbed off on her way too much. But she also had his insistence on taking the responsibility entirely on herself and not burdening others with the decision and its consequences.

“There aren’t any other tools in there?” Daniel asked with vain hopefulness.

She looked again but then shook her head at him.

“The all-in-one tool we don’t have the instructions for. Terrific,” he muttered. But he wasn’t going to let her take on all the accountability. Daniel took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go for it.”

Sam grinned at him, the old look of challenge back in her eyes. “Let’s rescue the colonel.”

Daniel ducked to follow her back out into the corridor and headed towards the cubicle, wondering how much he’d regret this later on.

  

There was a point at which even discomfort became boring.

Singing probably hadn’t been the best idea in the world, considering he had no water to drink, and Jack had made it through about two dozen choruses of beer bottles before his throat felt like the sands of Abydos and he’d quit. It wasn’t like it had made much of an impression, anyway. The cell was as silent as it had been before.

There was also hunger to consider, although he’d gone without food for a lot longer and the cramps were barely registering anymore. No, it was the dehydration that would get him. The human body couldn’t last more than a few days without water, and he was pushing three now. At least dying of thirst wasn’t a bad way to go; it carried its own anesthetic effects, the body’s protective mechanism. Beat the heck out of being tortured or dying of an infected wound or drowning. But still, buying it while sitting placidly in some sterile little alien room? Jack gave the room a disinterested glance. Not exactly the way he’d wanted to go out, either.

There was still a chance his team and the SGC would find him somehow, even though Jack himself didn’t know where he was. Chances were on a ship somewhere, considering he’d never seen anybody beamed planet-to-planet, although there was a lot in the universe he hadn’t seen yet. But no, his bet was on a ship, even if he couldn’t feel any movement. He didn’t believe he was on Thor’s ship, either, but with the beaming, this seemed to be some sort of relative at least. Jack snorted. Heck of a family relation.

So, no, while hope was good and he was the last person to count out his team, Jack O’Neill was a realist and wasn’t holding his breath. Not leaving a man behind didn’t apply when you did your damnedest and couldn’t find the man. A single human disappeared easily enough on Earth. When you had the whole universe to search through, well, needle in a haystack the size of the sun came to mind. Look at their unsuccessful search for Sha’re.

And there was a broken promise he wasn’t anxious to be reminded of. He’d all but sworn to Daniel they’d find her, that _Jack_ would find her. He had no doubt the archaeologist would keep looking even without Jack’s help, but he hated having broken his word to his friend, and then leaving him to fend for himself. Not that Daniel couldn’t take care of himself, but he had a tendency to … need a little help sometimes. And if he didn’t find Sha’re or was too late … well, he’d need Jack even more then, whether Daniel knew it or not.

Then there was his promise to Teal’c to show him the planet. Well, Jack had at least kept part of that one. They’d gone out for dinners, for a game, fishing. Once he’d even swallowed his distaste and taken the Jaffa shopping. If that wasn’t sacrifice, Jack didn’t know what was. But they’d never even left Colorado in the nearly two years Teal’c had been on Earth. Not exactly the tour he’d envisioned taking his friend on.

Carter at least he wasn’t leaving in a lurch, and she was the one he tended to worry the least about. She knew the rules of both the USAF and the planet, and between her smarts and her training, she’d do all right, probably even get her own SG team if he was gone. But she’d come an awfully long way since the edgy, defensive young doctor he’d met in the briefing room eons before, and he would have liked the chance to tell her that. She deserved knowing how proud he was of her.

That was a lot of people he’d be letting down with his death, when it came down to it, and he wasn’t even counting George or Cassie or Sara, who would never know her ex-husband had died out in space somewhere. And all because he couldn’t get out of a simple room.

Giving an inarticulate growl, Jack jumped up as fast as his locked knees would allow and smacked the unyielding wall with his open palm.

And, several seconds later, heard what sounded like a faint answering _thump_.

Okay, that was weird. He stared at the wall with dubious curiosity. It hadn’t ever echoed before, had it? Not that he’d heard. It absorbed sound, not reverberated it, especially not several seconds later. Hesitantly, Jack smacked the wall again.

_Thud._

Still so faint, he’d never have heard it had there been any ambient sound in the cell, but there wasn’t except for his quickening breathing. Was it an echo, some weird property of the metal, or … could there be someone out there?

“Hello?” Jack yelled as hoarsely as his parched throat would allow, and punctuated the call with a hard kick with the side of his boot. No sense getting his toes mashed on what was probably his imagination.

_Clump._

The echo-noise came right after his strike again, then to his disbelieving ears, repeated itself.

Right, not an echo. Delusions brought on by dehydration? Maybe he wouldn’t be allowed to die quietly sitting on the floor. Could he really be that lucky?

Another _clump_. Okay, assuming it wasn’t a hallucination, what next?

Basic communication.

Jack hauled back and kicked the wall three times quickly, then three drawn out strikes, and then three times quickly again.

In somewhat slower, almost uncertain progression, the soft _thwack_ of sound repeated his pattern.

Jack tamped down his rising hope. It wasn’t a human out there then—any idiot would have recognized SOS—so it wasn’t necessarily a rescue. But it was someone or something attempting to communicate, and that was more than he’d had the last fifty-something hours. That meant he wasn’t alone, and that there was a chance of getting out.

Except, if it was his hosts, why were they reduced to banging on walls? Why not just beam in there to talk with him face-to-face or, even better, beam him out?

Jack prepared to kick against the wall, to repeat the SOS, when a flurry of bangs and thuds against the wall gave him pause. Sounded like his new friend wasn’t alone, or else had gone into some kind of frenzy. He gave the wall an askance look. What the heck was going on now, and what did it mean? When the sound faded, he gave the wall a hesitant kick again.

No answer.

Uneasy now, Jack backed away from the wall and whoever or whatever was on the other side, no longer sure he wanted to know.

And then the world exploded.

 

It hadn’t taken long for Teal’c to return to the place they’d been beamed to, and he gave the wall next to it a slow and thorough look. So this was the wall of the cell O’Neill was in? It seemed a small obstacle.

Still, a Jaffa was careful. Teal’c began to walk along the edge of the cubicle, examining every portion of it, looking for flaws, openings, any weakness to be exploited. The corridor conveniently turned with each corner of the cubicle, and after a lengthy examination, he found himself back to where he’d started from, having made a complete circuit of the cubicle. And having found not a single crack or opening.

It was a cube, this much he knew now, one he estimated to be the length and width of perhaps two men’s height. Large enough to comfortably enclose a prisoner without being cruel, but still not very great. And that was assuming the walls were not thicker than they appeared.

That was his next question, and Teal’c laid a hand carefully against the outer metal wall of the cell.

It was oddly warm, if not unpleasantly so. It had been so when he’d touched the surface on other sides of the cell, too. Unusual for a metal without either solar or some other source of energy trained on it. Could there be some barrier besides the metal one they would have to pierce? Without knowing what form of energy it was, that could be … difficult.

Was that a soft vibration under his fingertips?

Narrowing his eyes, Teal’c made a fist and banged with considerable force once against the wall.

Even he could not hear much of a sound, and he did not have much hope it would penetrate. And yet … was that an answering _thud_? Perhaps. Knitting his eyebrows, Teal’c tried again, this time striking without fear of injuring himself, as hard as he could.

This time he was certain there was a reply, a similarly muted noise. Perhaps the wall absorbed, but all the way to its other side, a muffled transmitter? This was Major Carter’s area more than his own and Teal’c had never seen such a metal, but there it was before him. Once more, he struck the wall, feeling the sting of his skin at the blow, then again, and when there was no answer, once more.

And after a short hesitation was rewarded with a series of thumps, three short, then three long, and finally three short again.

Some sort of signal: Teal’c was sure of it now. And almost as certain it was O’Neill on the other side. But what did this mean, this series of short and long strikes? Perhaps some invitation to copy the pattern, testing his intelligence? He responded in kind, with nine blows, fast then slow then fast.

“Teal’c.”

He’d been too engrossed in his experiment to hear the return of his teammates, but Teal’c looked up now to see Daniel Jackson and Major Carter rounding the corner, looking hopeful. Major Carter carried what appeared to be a length of metal pipe, but other than that he didn’t see any reason for their excitement.

“It is O’Neill,” he took the chance of pronouncing, glancing again at the metal wall. “He is inside.”

“Really? You’ve been communicating?” Major Carter asked.

“Indeed. The walls carry sound through them to the other side.” He began to demonstrate, raising both fists this time and banging against the wall. Daniel Jackson immediately joined him, also pounding on the wall.

“Jack?!”

They fell silent, and at the soft thud against the wall, Teal’c turned to look at Daniel, who looked back at him with an intensity of hope that almost made the Jaffa uncomfortable.

“Did you find any openings, Teal’c?” Major Carter asked.

“I did not. There does not appear to be any such entrance as I am familiar with.” And that included rings, hologram projections, force fields, gravity inversions, and a considerable host of other barriers and exits used throughout the universe.

“That’s okay, I think I may have something that’ll work.”

At Major Carter’s words, Daniel Jackson hastily moved to Teal’c’s other side, either for safety or to retreat out of the way. Teal’c watched with a frown, unease rising as Major Carter raised the pipe she held as some sort of weapon to point at the wall, not directly on the spot where he presumed O’Neill to be, but a man’s length to one side of it. No doubt trying to be cautious, but Teal’c was reminded of the warmth of the walls and the potential energy they carried within them.

“Major Carter, I do not believe that is wise.”

She glanced up at him in surprise, perhaps more that he had surmised her intentions and the purpose of the alien device than because of his concern. “It’s okay, Teal’c, I’m just going to try to cut through the wall.”

“The wall is warm.”

It was all he said, but Teal’c saw the implication register on her face as she lowered the device and stepped forward, laying a hand against the wall. Her eyebrow inched upward at what she felt.

“Is it like this all the way around?”

He nodded once. “It is.”

Major Carter digested that, momentarily uncertain, then he saw her stiffen her shoulders, her decision made. “We’ll have to try anyway. We couldn’t find any other way inside, either, and we can’t just leave the colonel in there. With any luck, we can just cut a section out of the wall and not disturb whatever energy source is causing it to be warm like that.”

She did not sound completely comfortable with the decision, but there were times a leader had to decide between the lesser of two risks. And leaving O’Neill captive in an alien cell until another solution possibly presented itself was not a risk Teal’c wanted to take, either. Silently, he stood back, shielding Daniel Jackson even if the younger man did not realize it, and tacitly gave his approval for her to proceed.

Major Carter raised the device again, took careful aim at the same place as before, and depressed something, he did not see what.

And with a brilliant flame of light and thunderous sound, the wall blew apart.

With all the force Teal’c had feared, the explosion blew chunks of metal inward, which was fortunate for Major Carter who nevertheless was rocked on her feet but was otherwise unharmed. Daniel Jackson lost his balance from the concussion and fell against Teal’c, who automatically righted him. Fortunate for them, but what about for the one inside the cell?

Major Carter dropped her weapon and muttered a word under her breath Teal’c had not heard before, then dove inside the smoking, crumbling hole she’d just made with the deceptively small pipe.

“Jack,” was all Daniel Jackson whispered, and he also hurried to the hole, coughing against the acrid fumes and trying to peer inside. Not being able to see did not seem to deter him as he stumbled in after Major Carter without hesitation. Teal’c followed him with knitted brow, stooping to fit through the hole half his height.

O’Neill was inside. And he was alive, blinking uncertainly from where he half-sat, half-lay against the far wall where he’d doubtless been thrown. He was also coughing and blinking from the smoke, an unhealthy pallor to his face underneath the stubble and the unsteady hand with which he rubbed his eyes.

Major Carter was already kneeling by his side, controlled anxiety in her voice as she measured him with her eyes for injury. “I’m sorry, sir, I had no idea the device had that much power.”

Daniel Jackson was similarly reassuring himself and O’Neill on the man’s other side, frowning worriedly at him. “Jack, are you okay?”

Teal’c took it in with one glance, along with the smoking, charred, wet leg of O’Neill’s pants and the trickle of blood down the side of his face, and quickly moved forward. “He is injured. We must remove him from this place.”

“Carter,” O’Neill finally seemed to get over his shock and rasped a greeting. He peered through the haze in the room. “Teal’c?”

“It is I, O’Neill. We must remove you from here before you are injured further,” Teal’c repeated urgently.

Major Carter had thrown a worried glance at the smoking edges of the wall and no doubt seen what he had: the sparks of blue energy and the continuing sizzle of something burning. Her customary prudence returned, even as her gaze quickly passed over O’Neill’s injured leg. “He’s right, sir—it’s not safe here. We have to go.”

“Yeah, fine,” O’Neill grumbled. “Help me up here, would ya?” He reached a hand out.

Daniel Jackson took it, eliciting another surprised glance from O’Neill, who had apparently not noticed him before, and a wry answering smile from Daniel Jackson. It never ceased to fascinate Teal’c how much empathy the Tauri could communicate through simple gestures and looks, a skill Teal’c had used most his life only for military purposes. Whatever passed silently between them made O’Neill lean on the young archaeologist, accepting his support, while Major Carter eased an arm under O’Neill’s other shoulder. Together they helped him rise while Teal’c watched closely, looking for sign of further injury. But besides the leg and a few cuts that looked inconsequential, plus a haggardness that spoke of three days of captivity without proper nutrition, O’Neill seemed intact and moved with surprising speed.

Teal’c hurried to pass through the hole, then help ease his friend through after him. He and Daniel Jackson moved the heavily limping man down the corridor and around the corner from the gaping hole, to the relatively cleaner air and security of the intersecting hallway. There, Teal’c eased O’Neill down to the ground, Major Carter and Daniel Jackson immediately crouching again on either side of him.

“Jack?”

O’Neill was swallowing, or at least trying to. He was in pain and needed water, of this much Teal’c was sure, although he was trying to pull himself together for the sake of his team. “I’m fine, Daniel.” His voice was so dry and scratchy, even Teal’c winced. “Or I was, anyway, until you guys came along and blew up the place.”

Major Carter had begun to examine the injured limb but blinked up at her commanding officer, startled, and Daniel Jackson stared at him.

O’Neill shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. “Okay, so they weren’t much in the host department, but at least I was in one piece until you blasted the wall. Blowing the person you’re trying to liberate to kingdom come isn’t usually in the mission objective, kids.”

Daniel Jackson sat back on his heels. “We were just trying to cut through the wall, Jack, but you’re right, maybe we should have just left you in there. I’m sure the Asgard would have let you out in a couple of thousand years or so.” But despite what Teal’c recognized as sarcasm in his voice—deliberate overstatement hiding real beliefs—his true concern and relief were visible in the tight grasp he maintained on O’Neill’s arm and the frown on his face.

“We can always help you back inside,” Major Carter offered with what Teal’c also surmised was sarcasm, cheerfully spoken from where she worked on O’Neill’s leg. She had cleared the clothing away, revealing a large burnt area surrounding an oozing cut, all of which looked extremely painful.

Behind Teal’c there was a muted roar of sound as a flare of energy brought more chunks of metal down.

“Or not,” Daniel Jackson muttered, also glancing that way.

“Okay, I want to know what’s going on,” O’Neill announced, then flinched as Major Carter touched his leg. “But first, I need to ask you something.”

The three of them paused, Teal’c sifting through explanations as to their delay in arriving, their inability to find another way to free O’Neill, and why the Tauri had been taken by the ship in the first place.

O’Neill gave them all a plaintive look. “Anybody got some water?”

Major Carter grimaced. “I’m sorry, sir. Forseti—the Asgard—didn’t give us a lot of time to prepare before we came. It’ll have to wait until we get home.”

“And that would be …?”

“Uh … as soon as I can figure out a plan for getting us home, sir.”

O’Neill sagged against the wall behind him. “Swell. So let me get this straight—I’m sitting in there minding my own business, a guest of the Asgard, I take it, who haven’t hurt me, haven’t done anything but lock me in a room. And then you guys come along to ‘rescue’ me by cutting through the wall, in the process blowing _up_ the room, you don’t bring water, medical supplies, nothing, _and_ you don’t have any way to get us back home. Am I missing anything?”

“Well … there’s the fact we don’t know where we are,” Daniel offered after a short silence.

“And that Forseti has not been forthright in his dealings with us,” Teal’c added solemnly, although he had the strangest desire to smile.

“Then there’s the whole ‘removal of information remnants’ from your mind, sir,” Major Carter offered brightly. She had made some gesture to Daniel Jackson that had the archaeologist shedding his topmost shirt and then pulling off the undershirt beneath it. That he gave Major Carter before putting his green outer shirt on again. Teal’c silently followed his example, hearing her ripping the material into bandages as he pulled the clothing over his head.

O’Neill was eyeing them all, apparently caught between suspicion and disbelief, before giving a weary sigh. “On second thought, I don’t think I want to hear this.”

But of course he did, and Daniel Jackson launched into a wordy and detailed recitation that included the history of Forseti’s and the Ratatosk’s names, a summary of their daily activities while O’Neill was gone, and considerable conjecture on the information removal and process of other functions of the ship.

O’Neill listened to it all in silence, which was a sign in itself he was tired and in pain. He never listened to Daniel Jackson without interruption when all was well. But O’Neill had grown paler and closed his eyes, and while he uttered no sound as Major Carter bandaged his leg, his hands had curled into fists and his expression was drawn with the hurting that came from an injury to one without a prim’ta. Teal’c regretted his inability to not be of greater assistance than standing there in silent support and watch duty.

However, he did notice that even as Daniel Jackson talked, the younger man had edged up to the older to prop him up, and his voice settled from its typical excited cadence to a gentler, more calming one. Also, instead of clutching O’Neill now, Daniel Jackson’s arm had made its way to underneath O’Neill’s hand so that their leader could hold on to him and endure the treatment. And throughout, Daniel Jackson’s narration did not falter nor hesitate, and O’Neill did not open his eyes nor react in any way other than to silently accept the offered assistance and comfort. To do any differently would have embarrassed them both, and yet the offering and receiving were as natural and unashamed as anger and cruelty were to the Goa’uld.

This was why Teal’c, former first prime of Apophis and now _shol’va_ , had joined the Tauri. This empathy, this desire to make better, this depth of bonds that superceded even personal preservation, _this_ was what set the Tauri apart from other races Teal’c had encountered over the decades. And SG-1 from the others Teal’c had come to know and befriend at the SGC.

And this was why they would triumph yet again and return home despite the obstacles before them. They had come far already. Perhaps it had been imprudent to invoke Forseti’s help without setting the terms for it first, but even if the way home was not yet apparent, Teal’c was certain they had been right to come. O’Neill had needed help, and SG-1 had needed him, for all O’Neill’s complaints and injury. Teal’c was satisfied.

O’Neill’s eyes opened briefly, checking the area around him like any good warrior, and his gaze lighted briefly on Teal’c. The Jaffa raised his chin and smiled slightly, offering his own silent reassurance all was and would be well, and saw the corner of O’Neill’s mouth turn in response.

All would be well now, indeed. Just as soon as they found some way to cross an unknown reach of space to return home to the SGC.

As O’Neill would say, a slice of iced pastry.

 

For once, Jack O’Neill was content to rest and listen to his team sort this one out. They’d gotten themselves into it, and they could just get themselves—and him—out again.

Okay, yeah, so it hadn’t exactly been their fault the Ratatat had come along and kidnapped him because of the bits of information the Asgard had accidentally left in his head. In fact, as Daniel had so kindly pointed out, if he hadn’t stuck his head into that viewer-thingy in the Ancients’ library, he wouldn’t have been in this stew in the first place. Of course, he’d sweetly reminded Daniel in return that they wouldn’t have met the Asgard then and how much trouble they’d have been in by now without them. Like adrift God-knew-where in a spaceship without an obvious way to get home because _somebody_ had forgotten to ask for a round-trip ticket instead of a one-way. Daniel had gotten all huffy then and remembered he needed to go discuss something with Carter, which was what they’d been doing in low, urgent tones ever since. He didn’t even try to follow their conversation. It would be over his head, anyway.

And, truth be told, it took too much energy. His leg was a mess, bad enough to make him grit his teeth sometimes to keep from groaning, and his head was getting light and foggy from dehydration. Already it took a great deal of concentration just to stay there instead of daydream, and if they thought he was going to discuss space travel and star charts and beaming technology on top of that, they could just go back to Earth without him.

But they weren’t, even if they could. In fact, they’d moved Asgard and earth just to find him in the first place, never mind that they hadn’t thought much beyond that. As they’d moved him to the control room of the ship and he’d grumbled to take his mind off the nausea and burning strain of the movement, Teal’c had admonished him that it was he who had taught them never to leave a team member behind. That had effectively shut him up—what could he say to that? A small smile played on his lips at the thought. Maybe they’d done a half-baked job of it, but his team had come for him, and that meant more than they’d ever know.

Even now, Teal’c was standing some sort of sentry duty by him, instructed by Sam to make sure the little fire they’d started wasn’t going out of control or that there wasn’t something else alive on the ship to come after them, and instructed by Daniel to look after him and make sure he didn’t need anything. A canteen full of cold water and some extra-strength Tylenol would have been great, but when he’d seen Daniel’s face after making that joke, Jack had regretted it. It reminded him of how helpless he’d been when Daniel had been hurt in that rockfall on Shyla’s planet, with no hope of them treating him or getting him back through the gate to Fraiser. You didn’t make fun of someone hurting for you. And for some reason Jack couldn’t comprehend, Daniel was. And so was Teal’c and Carter.

He swallowed, wishing his throat wasn’t so dry and his tongue wasn’t so sharp, and listened drowsily to the two geniuses figure out a way to get them back home.

A thought drifted a few times past his foggy brain before he realized what it was and grabbed hold of it. “Teal’c?”

There was a rustle of movement as the Jaffa knelt next to him. “O’Neill.”

“Why can’t we just beam home?”

“I believe that is what Daniel Jackson and Major Carter are discussing. Their concern seems to be how to control the beam so that we return to the place from which we were brought here.”

“Oh.” Of course they couldn’t just beam somewhere—ending up floating in space without a suit wouldn’t leave them better off than they were there. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He let the problem go again until another thought presented itself. “What about a recall button? Some sort of reverse?”

There was a brief silence. Jack opened his eyes curiously to see the Jaffa in thought. “I do not know if such a thing exists,” he finally said. “However, I shall mention it to Major Carter and Daniel Jackson.”

“You do that,” Jack said tiredly. He really didn’t want to be a part of it, honestly, but you didn’t just stop being responsible for your team.

The voices faded. Last time he’d been on an Asgard ship, it had been quiet like that, too; no machinery humming, no engines working, not even the sound of conversation. It wasn’t like Star Trek with all the beeping buttons and computer noises and commands being given. And the sound of the phasers and photon torpedoes in space, like there was noise in space. Space was quiet. Only Thor had talked, and then sent him back just as silently and quickly as he’d been taken.

Sent him back …

Jack frowned. “Carter?” His voice cracked worse than a kid’s going through puberty. He cleared his sandpaper throat and tried again. “Carter.”

“Yes, sir?”

Next thing he knew she was bending over him, frowning the way she did when she was worried about something. He wondered idly if it was him or the problem of getting home. “Check the chair,” he scraped.

“Sir?”

“The chair. For a switch.”

He loved seeing that light come on in her face. It usually meant the solution to whatever jam they were in. “Yes, sir!”

She quickly stood up and the background buzz of noises started again.

Kinda hypnotic, actually. Well, his team could take it from there. Maybe they were good at getting themselves into scrapes, with or without him, but they were the best at getting themselves out again.

And so, in the middle of a rescue/return to base mission, Colonel Jack O’Neill let himself tune it all out and went to sleep.

 

There was a mushiness to his thoughts and a queasiness to his stomach that Jack could always recognize even when half awake. _Infirmary_. Which always only left the questions, was it ours or theirs, and what had happened to get him there?

A heavy blinking stare at the ceiling revealed nothing, but listening for a moment gave him the answer to the first question. Unless Fraiser had joined the Goa’uld, he was at the SGC. Besides, _they_ usually preferred uncomfortable sarcophagi to mattresses and sheets.

As for the other question, nothing was wrong with his head but a vague ache and the retreating fog of sleep, and it didn’t take memory long to return. Especially when his right leg was numb from above the knee down. Apparently, the kids had found a way home, after all. Pity he’d slept through the trip.

“Colonel, you’re back.”

That was Carter, sounding way too cheerful. Jack tilted his head just enough to see her without expending too great an effort. “Carter. I guess we’re all back then?”

Her grin was positively gleeful. “Yes, sir. You were right about the return controls being on the edge of the seat. How did you know, sir?”

Jack smiled whimsically. “Oh, just a little something I picked up from Thor.”

“I guess you _can_ teach an old dog new tricks,” another playful—and smug—voice spoke up from his other side, and Jack twisted his head around to give Daniel a glare.

“Did you just call me a dog?”

“Who, me?” Shocked innocence. “No, no, I was just teaching Teal’c some more Earth sayings.” He waved a hand at the silent Jaffa standing next to him. Teal’c looked impassively at them both, but Jack could swear his eyes were twinkling.

“Daniel? Bite me.”

Teal’c’s eyebrow went up at that, but not as high as Daniel’s.

Feeling better already, Jack turned back to his 2IC. “So, Carter, we just beamed back, just like that?”

“Just like that, sir. Although it didn’t let me bring the pipe-tool back—it only brought back what we’d taken with us. I think you were right that it was some kind of a recall switch. And since all four of us were originally beamed from the briefing room, that was where we were all returned.”

“Ah. So … I was right.”

She dimpled. “Yes, you were, sir.”

“Did you hear that, Daniel?” he called pleasantly over his shoulder.

“Yes, Jack,” came the longsuffering reply.

Nor would he be letting Daniel forget it anytime soon. Jack’s grin slowly faded into a genuine smile he directed to all of his visitors. “Well … thanks. I appreciate you all coming after me.” He waited a beat, just long enough for Carter to start blushing. And for it to be clear he meant it. But before things got soapy … “Just try to bring some C4 and water and an escape route with you next time you come to break me out of someplace, will ya? I can’t figure out the answer each time.” It was an effort to say it with a straight face, but worth it for the various degrees of disbelief and, in once case, apoplexy on his team’s faces.

Daniel sputtered, sure to give Jack the chewing out of a lifetime if not for the unusually fortuitous appearance of Doctor Fraiser, who was soon shooing his team out the door. Jack smiled beatifically at them at them as they went.

“Stay out of trouble!”

Daniel was turning purple.

Grinning happily to himself, Jack lay back down, snuggling into the comfortable bed. He was a lucky man.

The parched feeling was gone, but his tongue still felt furry, and he pushed himself back up a moment later to glance around. Ah, the ubiquitous pitcher of water. It was a stretch, but he could just reach it and pour himself a nice, cool glass of—

The sudden flash of light in the room nearly shocked him into dropping the pitcher. Water went all over the tray instead. “ _Holy_ smoke …” he blurted.

An Asgard stood there between Jack’s and the empty neighboring bed, looking calmly at Jack as if he’d just been in the neighborhood and stopped in to say hi, too. Jack frowned at it—him?—then asked tentatively, “Thor?”

“It is I, O’Neill.”

His shoulders sagged with relief. “I was afraid it was that For-whatever guy Carter and Daniel talked to.” Jack made a face at the alien. “Hey, can you tell me what was all this was about, first taking me along for the ride and then sending Carter, Daniel, and Teal’c after me without directions on how to get back?”

“I came to apologize for your abduction and for Forseti’s lack of assistance,” Thor intoned as flatly as ever. “It was our incorrect assumption that allowed the Ratatosk to take you in the first place, and we should have provided more help in retrieving you. Forseti did not know or trust you and was mistaken in his actions.”

“Yeah, well …” It was hard to stay mad after an apology like that. Especially delivered by a being who had the power to wipe out the planet and was the only thing standing between them and the combined power of the Goa’uld. “Do you know if it did its, uh, mind-erasing thing?” he asked warily.

The alien tilted its head to one side and stared at him as if it were checking. “It did not. Much of the Ratatosk’s programming was damaged. A part of the knowledge of the Ancients continues to reside in you. However, it is contained in the vast portion of your mind that is not used and will not affect you.”

Jack made a face. “Thanks. I think. But this … Rat-task ship, it’s not gonna be back, right?”

“We have now made certain it and its sister ships are no longer in service. Their time has passed.”

“Progress, huh?” Jack asked wryly.

“Indeed. It is not the past now we must protect, but the future.”

_That_ was cryptic. But he got the gist of it. Jack shrugged. “Well, no hard feelings. Actually, I’m kind of touched they all came after me like that. It takes a lot of guts to jump in on faith without seeing where you’re going. Gives me hope for our future, you might say.”

“As it does for us,” Thor said. And at Jack’s questioning look, gave him what could almost pass for a smile. “Be well, O’Neill. We shall meet again.”

Another bright flash, and he was alone in the room.

So the hard-headed loyalty of his team gave the Asgard hope, huh? For all he knew, this might have been some kind of Asgard test they’d just passed, but Jack didn’t think so. Naw, it’d just happened to work out that way, but the Asgard had gotten a lesson in human trustworthiness that was bound to stay with them. And it had been his team that had taught it. Jack crossed his arms behind his head. That was well worth a couple of days of solitary confinement and a chewed-up leg.

And even if the Asgard forgot it, no matter how much grief he was planning to give his team about it, Jack O’Neill never would.

The End


End file.
